In which I survive two happy hours without faltering

If ever there were a time to fail on my mission, tonight would have been it.

The setting was lively and collegial; two major NCAA upsets had the sports fans at Old Ebbitt all riled up and rowdy. My inhibitions were at their absolute lowest after three drinks and a particularly strenuous workout. And one of my all-time favorite foods — wings — was being passed around like a loaded bong at Bonnaroo.

I can only attribute my resolve to the wonder that is this glorious libation:

Alice in Wonderland wouldn't have stood a chance against this.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is a Samoa cookie martini. Samoa. Cookie. Martini. Like the Girl Scout cookie made all kinds of grown-up delicious, liquified, bourbonized and crusted with toasted coconut. Were it not for this cold and lovely treat distracting my senses, I'd likely have been unable to withstand the scent of vinegary, piping hot wing sauce. After indulging in this potion I found myself humming with just the buzz I needed to stroll four blocks out of the way and gaze sentimentally at the White House on my way home.

Last night's happy hour was a wildly different story. Two sauvignon blancs, two Coronas and two shots of Jameson is definitely not a recipe for a fledgling vegetarian's success. I can only attribute that resolve to my inability to make food go into my mouth before passing out. But hey — means and ends, amirite?